The Espresso Machine That Saved My Sanity: A Work-From-Home Saga

The Espresso Machine That Saved My Sanity: A Work-From-Home Saga

It all started during the pandemic, when my office decided that working from home was going to be a permanent thing. At first, it sounded like a dream. Pajamas all day? Yes, please. No more awkward elevator small talk? Even better. But I quickly realized that I had vastly underestimated my dependency on one crucial part of office life: the coffee machine.

In the office, coffee was a sacred ritual. Every morning, I’d march up to that humming beacon of caffeine, slam a mug under the spout, and watch in awe as it transformed my sleepy, semi-coherent self into a productive member of society. But at home, I had... a drip coffee maker. It wasn’t just slow; it was *too* slow, as if it enjoyed watching me suffer while it leisurely burped out a weak excuse for coffee.

Then came The Day. A Monday, naturally. I was running late for a Zoom meeting, trying to wrangle my uncooperative hair into something Zoom-appropriate (spoiler: it wasn't), when I reached for my coffee. One sip, and I nearly cried. It was watery, lukewarm sadness in a mug. This wasn’t going to cut it. I needed the good stuff, the real deal: espresso.

Cue the arrival of the Espresso Machine 15 Bar with Milk Frother, the hero I didn’t know I needed.

When it arrived, I unboxed it like a kid on Christmas morning. There it stood, gleaming in its stainless steel glory. I swear I heard an angelic choir sing when I plugged it in. I fumbled through the instructions, feeling like I was defusing a bomb with how careful I was, but finally, I was ready. I loaded it up with freshly ground coffee, pressed the button, and... nothing.

Panic. Had I broken it already?

Then, a soft gurgle. A hiss. It was alive! As the first drops of dark, rich espresso poured into my cup, I felt tears of joy well up. Was this what parenting felt like?

By now, I was late for my Zoom call, but no matter—I had espresso! I quickly frothed some milk with the nifty milk frother (still slightly terrified I’d somehow spray milk across the kitchen) and made myself the most perfect cappuccino I’d ever seen. I took a sip and let the bliss wash over me. Productivity, here I come.

Then, of course, the real work-from-home reality hit. The espresso worked too well. After my second cup, I was buzzing—not just mentally, but physically. My fingers flew across the keyboard like I was hacking into NASA. The neighbor’s dog barked, and I nearly jumped out of my chair. I responded to every email in record time, but with way too many exclamation points. 

"Thanks for the update!!!!!!! Looking forward to the next steps!!!!! LET'S DO THIS!!!!!!!"

Around noon, I was halfway through reorganizing my entire Google Drive when I realized I’d hit the point of no return. I’d had too much espresso. Way too much. I paced around my living room, eyeing the machine. It sat there, gleaming in the sunlight, looking innocent. But I knew. I had unleashed the beast.

By 2 p.m., I was in a Zoom meeting, vibrating in my chair, trying not to let anyone notice that my left eye was twitching uncontrollably. Every time someone said something, I would nod aggressively, resisting the urge to scream, "YES, I AGREE, LET'S GO!" 

But you know what? I got through the day. And the next day. Because despite the mild heart palpitations and sudden need to color-code every spreadsheet, the espresso machine had become my work-from-home sidekick.

Now, we’ve settled into a routine. One strong cappuccino in the morning, no more, no less. We’ve come to an understanding, the espresso machine and I. It gives me the energy I need to face the world (or at least the endless stream of Zoom calls), and in return, I don’t abuse its powers.

That drip coffee maker? It’s gathering dust in the back of the cupboard, forever banished. Because once you’ve tasted the sweet, caffeinated nectar of a 15-bar espresso machine, there’s no going back.